The Journey of the Nobody
by ShinigamiSparda
Summary: Scott Lovett, a man in his early 20's that never had much control or motivation in life, decides to grab life by the horns in the world of Street Fighting and decides to try his hand at S.I.N.'s upcoming World Warrior tournament. Scott hopes to broaden his horizons and find a teacher, but the sinister shadow hanging around the tournament may put those plans on hold.
1. Chapter 1

**The Journey of the Nobody**

First Step of the Unknown

"The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step." _Lao Tzu_

**/**

_I can't sleep, _He thought for what must've been the fifth time that night.

He turned his head and looked at the digital clock once again.

_11:23. Should've been asleep three hours ago. Damn it, I've got to stop looking at that thing._

The young man rose from the bed, dressed in nothing but a pair white briefs. He took a few steps into the tiny bathroom and flipped on the fluorescent lights, flickering before filling the tiny bathroom with its sickly yellow color, turning the already dirty looking light blue tiles a shade of unearthly green. The light continued into the tiny motel room, the beige colored coarse carpet and similarly colored twin sized bedcovers to able to show off their ugly tone as well.

_Man, I never thought I'd be in a place that looked worse than my apartment,_ he thought, taking a quick glance at the small bed and room behind him before looking back at his own reflection in the mirror. _Mum was right, aesthetics _do _matter. I never thought I'd miss the white carpet and blue walls of that tiny hole back home._

He finally focused on his face in the mirror, his green irises framed by the slightest hint of bloodshot arteries. He pushed away some of the bangs of his chestnut brown hair and got a better view of the rings of darkness beginning to frame his sockets.

_Bloody hell, I look like shit. Just another day in the life of Scott Lovett, eh?_

He linked his fingers behind his head and stretched his arms upward, stretching his muscles before letting loose with a yawn. He dropped both arms at his side and hung his head, closing his eyes.

_No, you damn bastard, pull yourself together, you didn't come this far and spend this much to critique yourself now. Gotta get your damn head in the game._

He slapped himself against both cheeks before taking in a deep breath and releasing. He looked at his reflection with renewed determination, which only dampened when he saw what was in the mirror.

The young man looked at his body, fair skinned without much of a tan anywhere except his face, and even that was barely noticeable.

_That's what you get for training inside, or at least when the sun's not shining. The cap probably has something to do with it, too._

He kept going and examined his body. Biceps, triceps, pectorals, abdominals, quadriceps, calves, every muscle on his body was… decent. Lean but not toned, noticeable but nothing impressive.

_Ok, so not every man showing up is going to be a Sagat, or a Zangeif, or even a Guile, but god damn it, I bet even most of the sheilas showing up will have better bods than mine! Ugh, for fuck's sake it's happening again, calm down…_

He knew he was nervous but this point only served to drive that home. When he was anxious he could never keep his word usage to one culture, not even in his head. The worst part was none of them were acts, so it weirded out everyone around him even more. Luckily no one was present to see him.

_Then again, I'm not even saying this out loud so what am I worried for?_

He sighed again. He was nervous, that's to be expected. It was his first international tournament after all, and he didn't have a particularly stellar record before this. And to join not just _any _international tournament but what was being billed as the next _World Warrior _tournament, why wouldn't he be nervous? He saw some of the other guys on the way here and most if not all of them looked like they could snap him in half. Sure, he wasn't a twig, but they weren't exactly just "fit" either.

_And look at you, one of the only three from the land down under, representing the great country of the Aussies. Well, it's not like I'm here for those blokes anyway. Hell, it's not even a place I can really call a "homeland." I guess nowhere gets that title, really._

He cracked his necked and glared back into the mirror, preparing for the mental pep-talk.

_Forget it, mate. You're not here for anyone but yourself. Hell, you're not even here to _win_._

Scott had no illusions of a grand upset, of being a dark horse winner, or even a finalist.

_Fight. Learn. Grow. Experience the clash of fists and feet and techniques. But look beyond. Victory and defeat are unimportant, what is important is who and what each person is. The clash of motivations, of philosophies, the building of experiences. It is the clash that matters, not the end result._

… _Heh, I almost sounded pretty cool for a second._

He allowed himself a small smirk before getting to the task at hand.

_Ok, first up, you need to get to sleep. If not your stamina and reflexes will be shot._

He headed for the closet and started to get dressed, first pulling on his white socks. He then slipped on his t-shirt with two green horizontal stripes and one violet stripe in between, and over that the green long-sleeved collared shirt with blue plaid stripes before reaching for his blue jeans. He stopped a moment when he heard a familiar "clink" and looked at the chain clipped to the belt loops on his jeans. He smiled, the seemingly innocuous object a reminder of the path he'd decided to walk three years ago. The nobody who just got pushed on the winds and tides, sent all over the world at others whims, was finally going to start carving his own path. He stopped reminiscing and pulled on his jeans before slipping on and tying his green sneakers with white soles and laces. Finally was the dark green flat cap, which honestly was more a habit than anything else. Seriously, what purpose would it serve at this time of night?

_Think I saw a general store around here. Maybe I can get some sleep aids, or if nothing else a glass of warm milk to help me catch some Z's. A fighter can't run without rest._

He closed the door behind him and locked the keys before walking down the stairs and away from the motel.

**/**

It took him a while but he finally made it to the small general store on the outer rim of Paris. He bought some melatonin, making sure to get something that would only help him go to sleep and not knock him out completely. After all, he had to wake up the next day. It's nice to know that the rumors he'd heard about the French giving English speakers a hard time, especially the one's that seemed American, at least wasn't true for everyone as the cashier for the 24-hour store had been very helpful.

_But now I'm hurting for money even worse. Man, I better get past the qualifying rounds tomorrow or else there's no way I'll be able to eat or even get a place to bloody sleep with the money I have. Bugger, it's happening again._

He was alone with his thoughts for a while, something not good for his state of mind really, when saw something that caught his attention. A young girl was sitting on a bench in front of him, likely a teenager judging by her size, with fair skin. Her blonde hair was tied back into pigtails held together with red ribbons, and her eyes were a rather pretty sky blue. Judging by her somewhat labored breathing, the presence of sweat on her skin, and the water bottle resting by her feet, she was likely just resting from doing some sort of workout. But what caught his attention was what she was wearing: A white karate gi with red edges at the sleeves, bottom, and collar, held with a red belt that had the design of France's flag at one end. On her legs she wore blue baggy karate pants and her bare feet and hands were wrapped in bandages. In addition around her wrists were red, white, and blue bracelets. He had somehow gotten so lost in his thoughts that he didn't even notice he had approached her.

She gave him a long look up and down before speaking.

"Bonjour, monsieur."

"O-Oh! U-Um, bon-bonjour," he stuttered back.

He looked at her for a moment more before she raised an eyebrow.

"Can I help you with something?" she asked in an annoyed tone, and in perfect English.

_Oh hell, I've been staring._

"Uh, I'm sorry, I was zoning out for minute and I guess I didn't see you until now. Sorry 'bout that, luv."

"'Luv?'" she looked back, confused.

"Aw hell, um, I didn't mean nothing by it sheila, I just kinda-"

"'Sheila?'"

"I-I mean m-miss! I didn't mean to-! Oh, bollocks…"

Scott felt his face flush and pull the brim of his cap down in shame. He'd done it again, damn nervous vocabulary switching. He was about to head off before he heard a snerk. He looked up and saw the somewhat antagonistic expression she was wearing before had left and in its place was a genuine smile of amusement.

"You're a bit weird, aren't you?"

"Heh. Wouldn't be the worst thing I've ever been called…"

"Anyway, why were you staring at me like that?"

"Oh, um. It's just your outfit. I mean, I don't keep up with fashion, but last I checked a karate gi and bare feet weren't exactly the latest trend for teenaged girls."

"Oh this? This is my fighting outfit!" she proclaimed proudly.

"'Fighting?'" he echoed, his interest piqued. "Are you a martial artist?"

"Yup! Going to be entering the international tournament tomorrow!"

"Wait, what!? You mean the S.I.N. tournament that's begin held in Paris!? _That_ international tournament!?" he almost shouted back.

"Mmm-hmm!" she nodded in response.

"By yourself?" he asked, his voice quieting as he was now more confused than outright shocked.

"Well, my master is taking me and entering as well, but it's not like this is a tag team tournament, so I'll be on my own once it starts," she answered confidently.

"Um… No offense meant, but aren't you a little young? I mean, I know a fighter's age isn't a representation of their strength, but you look like you'd still be in middle school."

The girl's confident smile began to falter for a moment before she nervously began twiddling her fingers. "U-Uh, well, I'll be honest, I am a bit nervous. I mean, it is my first time in a tournament."

Scott looked down at her and after a moment smiled.

"You know what, I think I can help with that."

"Huh?"

He extended his hand.

"My name's Scott Lovett, and like you I'm a fighter who's got his own doubts and hesitations about the upcoming tournament. And, if you'd let me, I'd like to see if we can't help each other."

The girl looked back at him, surprised for a moment before standing up and grasping his hand with a smile.

"My name is Emma Brooks, and I accept."

Scott nodded back before releasing his hand.

"So…" he began after looking around for a moment. "Know a place where we could have match in peace?"

**/**

"How's this?" Emma asked after leading Scott to a public park.

The area was wide, more than wide enough to be a jogging course, and had bushes and trees to conceal them. He felt that their presence would probably seem suspicious, but then again it's not like there were places for people to have sparring matches on a whim in the middle of the night. Or at any time, for that matter.

"This should do fine," Scott responded, pulling out a pair of chestnut brown fingerless motorcycle gloves and strapping them on. "So let's try and not go at each other too hard, alright? We don't want to get injured before the qualifying rounds."

"Ha! No way!" she responded while taking a battle stance, legs spread shoulder length with a slight bend as she held both hands out in front, palms open. "If you're a real fighter, don't hold back!"

_Great, the type that doesn't know how to do anything but go at full throttle. _Scott thought with an exasperated smirk.

"We'll see if you're still singing that tune soon enough," he responded. He took his own stance, turning to his side with one arm held out in front of him and the other close to his chin as he bounced slightly on the balls of his feet.

Emma's eyes lit up at this. "That stance! Are you a fan of Fei-Long!?" she almost squealed back.

"U-Um, yeah," Scott responded, somewhat surprised at her enthusiasm.

"Wow! Does that mean you're taught in Hitenryu like him!?"

"N-Not exactly," he responded, getting a confused expression in return. "Let's just get on with the match. By the way, be more careful in the tournament."

"Huh?"

"You totally dropped your guard when you got excited. In a real fight, your opponent would've probably taken advantage of that."

Emma flinched before returning to her proper stance, a blush of embarrassment showing through her stern battle expression. "Thank you."

Scott nodded. "Alright, let's see what you've got."

She took that as her cue to rush forward, still keeping her guard up as she did. Scott sent out a quick jab to see how she'd react, which turned out to be a bad move. She swatted his attack aside and kept rushing in, then grabbed his collar with both hands. With surprising swiftness she pivoted so her back turned to him and threw him over her shoulder. Scott wasn't expecting this and landed flat on his back, winding him.

He forced his eyes open as she let go, just soon enough to see her raise her right foot into the air, ready for a stomp. He summoned up his strength and curled forward, throwing as much strength and momentum as he could into a forward roll to escape. Her heard the nearly bare foot connect with the ground, not far from where his chest was, and kept escape going for another two rolls.

He quickly stopped, pivoted to face her, and planted both palms on the ground as he steadied himself. She had already returned to her fighting stance but made move to advance.

_A grappler, huh? Figures a little girl would have moves to deal with a bigger guy. Not that I'm some huge titan lurking over her. Still, she's got some strength to throw me like that. I may have sent out a jab but I was well balanced on the ground, not off balance with my momentum heading her way._

"Must be pretty embarrassing to have little girl throw a big guy like you!" she taunted with a smirk.

_Trying to make me loose my cool, huh? Guess you've had training in more than just technique. Let's see how you handle it._

"Yeah, I'm pretty surprised. I guess you're not some Barbie doll after all," he retorted.

That seemed to produce exactly the effect he wanted, as she soon began to practically seethe with rage. "I am not a Barbie doll!" she shouted back.

"Come over her and prove it then, Barbie."

That was apparently the final straw for Emma as she then came barreling down at Scott, barely remembering to hold her fighting stance as she did. He took advantage of this, and when she was within range propelled himself from his kneeling position into a jumping kick. She reacted as quickly as she could, stopping the charge and putting up her guard, but it wasn't fast enough. The kick slipped by her raised arms and connected with her forehead, forced her to stumble back.

As soon as he landed Scoot made a quick dash forward before hooking her front foot with his own, pulling her forward and off balance. He quickly adjusted his own footing and flipped over her, back touching back, before landing on the other side. As he flipped he clipped his chain from his belt loops and wrapped it around his fist. Upon landing he spun and struck her in the temple with his chained first, sending her to the ground face first.

Scott leaped into the air for a follow-up, raising his chained fist into the air ready to drive it home into her back. To his surprise, Emma managed to recover enough to spot him in the air as he was coming down and extended her leg at him. The kick hit him in his gut as he came down, but it didn't stop him from punching her with the metal object, though it did reduce the impact somewhat.

Scott stumbled backward, slightly winded, while Emma forced through the pain enough to roll onto her back and scoot away. Scott quickly unwrapped his chain and hooked it back to his belt loops as Emma stood up and took her stance.

"Cheater!" she shouted. "You used a weapon!"

"Weapons are going to be legal in the tournament, you know," Scott retorted, taking his stance as well. "Anything but guns are allowed."

Emma growled, realizing he was right.

"You'd better be prepared for the other fighters to use things like knives or clubs, or else you might end up loosing more than just a match," he warned in a calm voice.

Emma looked shocked for a moment before putting on a stern face. She recognized that he was trying to give her advice and nodded firmly.

_Thinking about it now, I probably should've riled her up even more if I wanted to win. Guess I'm just too much of nice guy to do that. Seeing as she's calmed down now, I doubt that "Barbie" thing will work again._

Scott examined his opponent, her outstretched palms a reminder of both her reaction time and her fighting style.

_That grapple style she's got is giving me a lot of trouble because I can't get in close. She's not just stronger than she looks, she's fast, too. I'll need to get her to make a mistake if I want to get by that._

Scoot rushed forward, pouring on the steam and keeping his strides and her reach in mind. Emma held fast and flexed her fingers, ready for another throw. At the last possible moment Scott slammed both feet on the ground and skidded to a halt, just barely inside her reach. She lunged forward and tried to grab him but was surprised when she found herself missing her target as he leaned back, barely avoiding her grasping fingers.

With her guard open Scoot stepped forward with a quick punch to her chest (_Don't hit the boobs, don't hit the boobs, don't hit the boobs_), pushing her back a bit. He followed with a short hop forward and punched her in the kidneys with his other fist, pushing her back more, before planting both feet and finishing with close gut punch with the other hand. The force sent Emma back a few steps as she struggled to recover.

Scott decided to finish it off with a roundhouse kick to the head, twisting his body for a fierce snap to temple. To his surprise, she ducked and then rolled under his kick, stopping after one roll and positioning herself behind him, albeit facing the other direction.

Not sure how to react, Scott use his grounded foot to hop away from Emma before his other foot came back down. Unfortunately, in his panic he dropped his guard completely and was unprepared for the next attack.

Emma, without even turning to face him, launched herself at Scott. She twisted herself sideways in mid-air, raising both feet up before bringing them both crashing down on Scott, hitting him in the shoulder and forcing him down. Though he didn't fall, it created the opening she needed.

Once she landed Emma dashed forward and grabbed onto Scott's collar. In surprising display of strength she planted both feet and pulled Scott to the side before using the momentum to lift him into the air behind her. Continuing the circular motion, she swung him around once more before putting all her strength and momentum into hurling him back first into the ground.

Scott wheezed, the air being knocked out of him for the third time that night. Emma was preparing her next attack when he held out his hand for her to stop. She held fast as he coughed, desperately trying to catch his breath.

"O-Ok," he managed to wheeze out. "Y-You win. I'm done."

Emma looked shocked for a moment. "Seriously?" she asked in disbelief. Scott nodded in response. "But we've barely started!" she complained.

Scott slowly picked himself up as he continued. "Yeah, but like I said, we've both got tournament qualifications tomorrow. We don't want to injure ourselves before we even sign up, do we?"

"B-But-!"

"Besides, you would've won anyways," he added as he dusted himself off.

"W-What?" she asked, incredulous.

"Yeah, believe me I can tell. You may not be as strong as me but you're still pretty strong. You're also faster and your moves are more polished than mine. I can't say for sure, but you would've most likely beat me."

"I can't believe you're saying that. Don't you have any problems with admitting defeat to a little girl?" she asked, slightly teasing him.

"Hey, if there's anything I've learned it's that you can't judge a fighter by their appearance, especially not their height or their age. I know this probably doesn't mean much coming from me, but you've got some real talent." He extended his hand towards her. "Thanks for the match."

Emma still seemed surprised by how well Scott was taking this, and took a moment to respond. "L-Likewise," she answered, and shook his hand.

"So, feeling better?" Scott asked after letting go.

"Huh?"

"Feeling less nervous? I know I am," he explained with a smile.

She smiled back. "Yeah. Yeah, I really do."

"That's great," he said while walking over and picking up his cap. He dusted it off before putting it back on.

_Probably fell off after her first throw._

"I really gotta thank you for this. The match, I mean," Scott said.

"It's no problem. Like you said, it helped both of us out."

"Yeah, but I don't just mean that," he stated, getting a confused look in response. "I mean, after seeing some of the guys coming here, it felt like I was the only guy who didn't seem to have any confidence trying to sign up for this thing."

"Oh. Yeah, I know how that feels," Emma responded, somewhat dejectedly.

"But now, I'm feeling better about it."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I mean, if there's someone so new to this that even _I _can teach them something than maybe I'm not as outclassed as I thought!"

"Hey!" she yelled back.

"Heh. I'm just messin' with ya. Seriously though, thanks. I needed this."

"Yeah, yeah, you've said that like ten times already," she responded in a somewhat annoyed voice.

**/**

"But really, you've got some polished moves. Who's your trainer?" Scott asked, he and Emma heading back the way they came.

"He's a mercenary who adopted me less than a year ago," she responded.

"'A mercenary?'" he asked. "A soldier for hire?"

"Well, I guess, but he's not really like some hired killer or anything. He's a really nice guy, honest."

"And he adopted you? So he's like your father now?"

"Well, not really. We think of each other more as roommates," she explained. "But I guess we are pretty close. After all, he's a huge fan of Fei-Long just like me!"

"A mercenary who's a fan of Hong-Kong martial arts films? That's something I never thought I'd hear. I guess this world really is filled with all kinds."

"Yup! And I can tell you're a fan, too!"

"Well, yeah, I said I was."

"I know, but I mean even more than that!"

"Oh?"

"Yeah! You even used his moves in our fight!"

"Wow! You could tell?"

"Yup! First you got me with the Rekkukyaku, even though you only did the flying kick part of it, and then you got me with the Tenshin, even though you crossed it with hitting me with that chain. Then you hit me with all three punches of the Rekkaken."

"I can't believe you could tell all that while being hit! And also because my versions were so much poorer than his."

"Well, nobody is better at being Fei-Long than Fei-Long. Did you train under him? Or someone else who trained under him?"

"Nope."

"Who trained you then?"

"Nobody."

"W-What?!" she exclaimed in surprise.

"I'm completely self-taught. Then closest thing I've had to training was watching fights on T.V. or the internet or watching Fei-Long's films. I've had no teachers other than myself and experience."

"Whoa! To think you could get this good all by yourself!"

"Don't say it like that, you make it sound like I'm actually good. After all, I've been training for a few years now, teaching myself and entering in few tournaments, and I'm only this good."

"But that's not bad!" she insisted.

"How long have _you _been trained?" he asked.

"Um… a few months, actually."

"Just a few months!?" he responded in shock.

"Well, they were some really intense months, and I trained almost the whole week every week," she explained sheepishly.

"It's still really impressive."

"Yeah, I guess."

The two had finally reached the bench where they first met.

"Well, I guess I should be headed back now. I need to catch some sleep before the early bus if I want to be rested for the tournament," Scott said.

"Yeah, I guess I should be getting back, too," Emma agreed. "I hope we see each other again."

"No offense meant, but I hope we don't meet again until _after _the tournament. Not that I have much a chance of winning anyway," Scott said with a smirk.

Emma giggled. "Yeah, I get you. So, where should I look for you then?"

"Huh?"

"After the tournament. Where should I try to find you?"

Scott was a little taken aback, not expecting this young girl to actually want to be associated with him.

_Then again, she has been trained and adopted by a mercenary, so maybe she doesn't mind making weird friends. I suppose a loser who lives in a one-room apartment isn't that strange by comparison._

"I don't know how you'll get there, but I suppose you can check the phone book if you ever happen to be in Adelaide."

"'Adelaide?' Where's that?"

"Australia."

She flashed a look of surprise. "Wow. Well, I'll see what I can do then! Bye-bye!"

She waved as she jogged off and he waved back before turning around and heading to the motel. He quickly glanced at the bag full of melatonin before continuing.

_Guess I needed a different kind a sleep aid._

**/**

_Thank you for reading the first chapter of "Journey of the Nobody"! I really appreciate it!_

_To those of you who are wondering about "When You're Strange", fear not as I have not given up the project! I've done far too much planning to ditch it now, even if four games have come out since I started it._

_This story will be considerably shorter than that project, and I honestly wouldn't be surprised if it ends before the chapter numbers get into the double digits._

_For those of you who want to know about Scott you can head to my deviantart page where I go by the same name. As for Emma, she's actually the character from her own story that a fellow deviant asked if it was possible for her to be put in my story. Her ID on DA is ReikoEmmaLover._

_Anyway, I hope you enjoy Scott's story and have fun with him meeting other famous Street Fighters!_


	2. Chapter 2

**The Journey of the Nobody**

Background Deliberations

"We judge ourselves by what we feel capable of doing, while others judge us by what we have already done." _Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_

**/**

Scott was drained. He was exhausted, both physically and mentally, injured, but more than all that, confused. He should've been happy, but the odd foreboding feeling that something was off was something he just couldn't shake.

_What the hell is with this weird setup? The point system was one thing, but this…_

Each contestant first had their weight and height checked, then they were asked to give a punch to a machine that recorded and gave a point level to their strength. He knew he'd place low, but surprisingly he didn't place as low as he thought he would as there were quite a few people who with scores about the same as his, a sparse few actually _below _his score. But he knew that wasn't a true indication of one's power.

_Didn't see Emma there. Guess she was in a different block._

Since there were a large number of entries the preliminaries were split into eight blocks, and even then they were packed. There must've been a few hundred entrants in his block alone.

After that each contestant was required to fight in five 30-second matches against other members of the block, with the machines arranging their matches based on the measurements from earlier, though they weren't exactly always balanced. Each fighter had five matches whether they won or lost and would be awarded points depending on some system that they weren't made privy to, nor were they even informed how many points they got. Scott was actually surprised at how well he did, even if he didn't do that great.

In his first three matches he barely hung on against three opponents of similar size to him, managing to land a few clean hits and some decent counters, but it was obvious they were superior. In his fourth match he ended up against some taller more muscular man who obviously outclassed him in several ways. However Scott got lucky, the guy didn't take him seriously enough and when he got the chance managed to deliver a knockout punch with a chained wrapped fist right to the glass jaw while the idiot was taunting him.

Scott was on cloud nine after that, but there was enough time before his next match to calm down and keep it from getting to his head. In his final match, it was almost exactly the opposite: He got utterly trounced by some Asian teen with ridiculously long bangs and wearing a southern-style kung fu outfit. It was all Scott could do to block and do his best to keep himself from passing out, barely managing to stay awake for the match to end and having to be carried off the ring, blacking out not long after. Thankfully, he was only out for about half an hour.

_Seriously, who was that guy? How long did it take him to grow his hair out that long, he could practically stab someone's eye out with it!_

Amazingly, after waking up and spending some time recovering Scott was shocked and thrilled to find out that he actually made enough points to get into the actual tournament. He had done it, he actually qualified… But that feeling of elation was soon replaced with one of unease.

As it turned out, the tournament was _not _going to be held in Paris as everyone thought. Instead it was going to take place all around the _world_. The qualifying combatants would be shipped out across the whole planet in different randomly selected groups, and it was in these far off locations that the contestants would fight. And the strangeness didn't stop there. Each combatant would be given a special wristwatch that kept track of their movements, as well as give them updates on the leaderboards and, of course, tell time. It also served as essentially a debit card that could be used at an S.I.N. owned or sponsored restaurant or grocery store to keep them fed. Each combatant was given the equivalent of $100,000 U.S. worth of credit, and that number would never be refilled.

_Not that it would need to be. Anyone who can't keep themselves fed for the duration of the tournament with _that _kind of money either has one hell of an appetite, has incredibly expensive tastes, or is just a splurging idiot._

It would also serve as an I.D. to sleep at any S.I.N. registered hotels, so they would always have a place to get some shut-eye. But most importantly of all, it recorded their matches, including what kind of hits were landed and received and even who won and lost, which was especially necessary considering how the tournament was set up. Unlike in a normal tournament where two combatants were scheduled to face one another and the next one moved on, here the fighters would simply be let loose at a location and were free to choose who they battled and how many times they battled. Anyone could challenge anyone, and more importantly you could refuse a challenge. However, it's not like you could simply coast on a victory here or there because there was a cutoff point for scores. At each stage of the tournament there was a time limit and a minimum number of points that each fighter had to receive before they would qualify for the next round, and out of those that actually made enough points to qualify only the half with the highest scores would be going on to the next round.

To some this would've seemed like merely an interesting way to set up the tournament, but Scott couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.

_It's like we're part of an experiment. It's one thing to broadcast and record points in a match to determine the winner, it's another thing entirely to be monitored like lab rats in a test. What the hell is with this-?_

"Yo!"

"Huh?"

Scott looked up from his seat to see a young man in front of him. Apparently he'd been trying to get his attention. For a moment Scott thought he was the same boy who beat him his fifth fight, but quickly noticed the obvious differences: A white kung-fu top instead of a red one, and wearing a blue hat with a yellow brim and having his hair in a braid behind him instead of ridiculously long and gravity-defying bangs in front.

"So you just gonna keep starin' into space or what?" the boy asked with a smirk on his face.

"O-Oh! Um, I'm sorry, I guess I'm a little out of it."

"Heh, no kiddin'. I'm sure anyone would've been after taking a beating from my bro like that."

"Huh? Wait, did you say 'bro?' You're that guy's brother? The one with the long bangs?"

"Yup! Name's Yun Lee, and my bro's Yang," the boy introduced himself and held out his hand.

"Scott. Scott Lovett," Scott responded while shaking his hand.

"So you're pretty new to this whole thing, aren't you?"

"Huh?"

"Street fighting I mean. I saw your match against my bro and you were pretty bad, no offense."

"Heh. No taken. I'm happy enough that I even qualified for the actual tournament."

"Hey don't sell, yourself short," said a voice.

Scott and Yun turned to see Yang walking towards them.

"Hey bro!" Yun called.

"Hey," he answered back before turning his attention to the other man. "Scott, was it?" he asked. Scott nodded in response. "I mean sure, you probably can't hold a candle to half the guys in here and your form is sloppy as hell, but there's really something to be said for your determination."

"You really think so?" Scott asked, surprised to be praised, if somewhat backhandedly, by someone clearly superior to him.

Yang nodded. "Still, maybe you might want to consider dropping out."

"Huh?"

"I mean, sure you've got some good points but you're way out of your league here, and there are plenty of people who could probably put me and my bro to shame. You might want to cut your losses now."

Scott felt somewhat hurt but realized what he was trying to say. He didn't have a snowball's chance in hell to get much further than he had. For all he knew he might come across someone who might do more than simply _defeat_ him in a match.

_Even still…_

Scott inhaled sharply, before letting out a long breath. "Thanks, I appreciate it. But I didn't come here thinking I could win, only to learn. I know you'll never get stronger if you only pick fights you're sure you can win."

Both of the Lee brothers looked surprised by his response before returning to their cocky smirks.

"I see," Yang answered.

"Guess you've got more guts than I gave you credit for!" Yun added.

"Maybe we'll fight again in the future, I'd like to see how much you've improved," Yang said.

"I'd like that too," Scott answered. "Next time I promise you won't come out unscathed."

"Don't you mean 'next time I'll be the one who wins' or something like that?" Yun asked.

"I like to keep my expectations realistic."

"Heh. You really are something else. See ya," Yang said as he and his brother turned to walk away.

"Hold up," Scott called. The Lee brothers turned back to him, confused. "I've got to ask, have you guys been in a tournament this before."

"Nope. This'll be our first international run," Yun answered.

"How come?" Yang asked.

"It's just…" Scott began, but faltered. After a moment he continued. "Does something about the way this tournament is set up seem… wrong to you guys?"

The brother's exchanged a glance for a moment before responding.

"Well, it's a bit odd sure, but I wouldn't say 'wrong,'" Yang answered.

"I mean, as long as they doesn't pull of any stupid moves the guy can run his tournament however he wants, right?" Yun concluded.

"Hm," Scott grunted. Their responses did little to aid his unease.

"Well, talk to you later," Yang said while turning to leave again.

"Lates!" Yun called while following.

After a brief moment Scott overheard them talking to each other.

"Do you think he's on to something?" Yun asked.

"Dunno. But let's not forget Auntie came here," Yang responded.

"Yeah, anything that could bring _her _out of retirement must be one hell of an opponent…"

_Hm. Wonder who they're talking about…_

_**/**  
_

_Big thanks to B. 123 for a review to this, I really appreciate any and all support. Obviously this is a more story-related chapter, not every single chapter will be a fight. So, the Lee brothers make a brief appearance, I hope I captured their personalities well enough for the fans! As for the tournaments system, along with building off of the mention of Dan barely gaining enough points to qualify in Seth's SFIV intro cinematic the way the tournament is set up here is mostly a way not only to explain why the fights take place all over the world but also as an explanation of how Scott can lose but still stay in the tournament._

_Anyway, hope you guys like and continue to read! Laters!_


	3. Chapter 3

**The Journey of the Nobody**

Naught A Chance

"When you lose, don't lose the lesson." _Dalai Lama_

**/**

_Alright, time for the next one._

Scott had just finished lunch, a nice bowl of rice and beef stew, and headed off looking for his next match. It was day five of eight for the first round of the tournament, and Scott had found an interesting way to help secure his place. As it turned out, there were plenty of ways to gain points, but there was no way to loose them. In other words, his score could only go up and never down. As such as long as he kept fighting and doing _something _he could always increase his score.

Of course, the points one would get from simply fighting well paled in comparison to the points gained from winning a match, as he discovered with the massive jump in his points when he clinched his first victory on the third day. He had gained a second victory just yesterday and that boost actually put him above the cutoff line for points. To some that might seem impressive, and Scott himself was no less surprised at being able to accomplish this. However, in addition to those two victories he already had sixteen losses. A part of him felt guilty for doing this, feeling as though he was some kind of leech wasting the time of more powerful and skilled fighters. But the fact was if this point system hadn't been in place then he probably would've learned nothing so far. On top of that, it wasn't as though he was going to somehow cheat a better fighter out of first place, and more importantly he needed the experience.

As he walked down the busy street he soaked in the sights and the sounds, appreciating the other unexpected boon this tournament format offered him. Though he didn't get to really experience Paris that much it was still nice, but downtown in one of Hong Kong's bustling cities was something entirely different. Bikes weaved around pedestrians in crowded roadways, and cars drove by with almost reckless abandon. Noises never seemed to stop, especially now that he had found himself in what appeared to be a marketplace. The sounds of the residents speaking Cantonese, hawking and haggling their goods, were almost as loud as the noises of animals being prepared to be sold off, either dead or alive. Despite his obviously foreign appearance few people paid him any mind, giving him no more than a curious glance before continuing on with whatever they were doing. Despite that he usually preferred quiet places to give him time to relax something about this place filled him with energy.

_Also, it's pretty nice to be in a new place by my own will for once. True, the tournament decided where the block would be, but I decided to be part of it. It's much better than someone saying "hey, this is your home now, get used to it."_

After a few minutes of walking he stopped by another restaurant, this one appearing to be Japanese instead of local. He wasn't hungry, but something about it made him stop. Some sort of feeling told him to go inside. Without much reason he entered and one thing immediately caught his eye: a young boy in a white karate gi sitting at the bar eating something. As soon as he entered Scott noticed the restaurant to be a sushi bar, one of the ones with the conveyor belt serving trays.

_Guess he was aching for a taste of back home._

Scott had fought enough opponents in this international tournament to at least get an idea of what a fighter's dress said about them. Some dressed for mobility, their outfits made to be purely functional and nothing else. Others dressed to look intimidating, and although it could be said to work more often than not that image tended to break down by the fight's end, even if they won. Scott himself fell into the casual category, those that dressed not intended to send any message at all, simply what they enjoyed wearing. Finally were the traditionalists, those that dressed as their art taught them to. This outfit sent one message and one message only: "I am a fighter."

_And that's definitely the kind of person I need to clash with. Even if they're not that good, even if they're focused on fame, this is the kind of person who says "my fists do the talking"… usually._

Scott took the seat right next to the gi-wearing boy, casually turning to face him. The boy paid him no mind and continued eating his sushi and sashimi After a few moments Scott spoke up.

"Um, pardon me?"

The boy turned to look at him with curious yet annoyed black eyes. Scott took a better look at his features now: His face was definitely young, younger than he thought in fact. For all he knew this kid could still be in middle school. The karate gi he wore was very worn down, almost like he wore it every day, and worked himself to the brink every day while in it. His hair was black and long enough to reach his neckline, either styled into wonton spikes or simply allowed to do as it pleased, he couldn't tell. Around his neck was what he thought was thin yellow scarf, but it soon was shown to be a headband. Underneath his gi was what appeared to be a red shirt of some kind.

_Definitely the kind of person I'm looking for, though that headband gives me an urge to just grab one of the tails and yank for some reason._

Scott held up his S.I.N. watch into his view.

"Are you part of the tournament?"

"Hai." He answered simply, showing his own in response. His voice was bit higher-pitched than expected, causing Scott to think he was younger than he thought.

"_Hai." If I remember correctly from all those years of anime that means "yes." Hope this kid speaks enough English for me to get my point across._

"Might I challenge you to a match?"

"Forget it."

"Huh?"

"I don't have time to waste with complete newbie's like you," he said simply and went back to his meal.

_Well, that's not good. I need to get this kid to fight me. Hm. Do I antagonize him? No, that's not something I could pull, or would want to._

Scott observed the many rolls of sushi and slices of sashimi he was eating.

_Hm. Maybe I can bribe him._

"Listen, how 'bout a deal?"

"Deal?" the boy asked, looking more annoyed than before.

"We fight now, and if you win I pay for your lunch."

The boy raised an eyebrow at him.

"And if I win?" he asked.

"If I win, then I don't," Scott said simply.

"That's it?" he asked incredulously.

"I get the fight I want either way," Scott explained. "Or are you afraid you'd loose?" Scott added with a smirk.

The boy smirked back, clearly confident. "Hey, did you hear that?" he asked turning his head to the cook.

"I hear. Fight in front of store. No running off," the man behind the counter responded in broken English.

"You heard the man, right outside," the youth said with a grin, finishing his last bite of sushi.

_Sweet. Now let's hope he didn't buy too much. Or better yet, that I can actually win._

Scott and the boy stepped outside and worked their way into the street, which was still packed. However, if his past fights were any indication, people would soon start clearing a ring, and becoming an audience, once they saw that there were two combatants ready to go. Scott and the boy stood facing each other in the street about a yard or two away from each other, and sure enough the crowd began to catch on. A ring of people began to form around them, their murmurs showing their anxiousness and anticipation.

_Heh. Feels pretty insane, having this kind of power over so many people. Well, I hope all of you enjoy the show._

Scott began to stretch, limbering up for the upcoming fight, starting with his legs and working up. The boy, by contrast, had turned away from him and sat upon his knees, quietly meditating. Scott smiled, this was definitely the kind of person he was looking for.

After a moment the boy rose from his kneeling position and turned. The look on his face showed that he was taking this fight seriously, even if he thought Scott wasn't worth his time. He breathed in and exhaled sharply before taking his stance and shouting "Get ready!"

Scott took out his biker gloves and fastened them. He cracked his knuckled, then his neck, and adjusted his hat before assuming his position.

As Scott bounced on the balls of his feet the boy took slow, deliberate steps as he kept his guard up, moving his hands as he stepped and the two circled each other in an attempt to keep himself guarded at all times.

_Well this is different. Most of the guys I've fought have rushed in almost immediately. This kid's actually looking for an opening._

Just as he finished that thought the boy extended his forward hand and cocked back his other, obviously preparing for punch.

_Seriously? Even I can read-_

But the thought was cut short when the boy rocket forward, nailing him right in the chest and sending him flying backwards. The crowd exclaimed in shock and excitement as Scott landed square on his back, actually sliding for a bit after he hit. Scott managed to roll backwards using the force that carried him along the ground and land on his feet, though it was by no means a full recovery, his footing unsteady.

_Holy crap! How did he cover so much distance so fast!?_

Before he could get his bearings he felt someone grab his collar from behind and knee him in the stomach, winding him. Before he could even recover from that blow he was thrown face first to the ground and then received a punch to his back.

_Gotta get away from him!_

Summoning up as much strength as he could Scott brought himself to his hands and knees and jumped like frog away from the boy. Many members of the crowd chuckled at that. Scott used the momentum from his frog jump to roll forward before springing off his feet. As he flipped he turned in mid-air before unsteadily landing on both feet, facing his opponent. The crowed was impressed and some even clapped a bit.

_This kid is a lot better than I thought. This isn't just someone who's serious about fighting, this kid must've trained nearly all their lives, probably the son of a master. He's got way more experience than I do. This'll be tough._

The boy and Scott began to circle each other, both looking for openings to punish the other's mistake. As Scott was planning out his next move his opponent quickly dashed forward, not as an attack but to close the distance. Scott decided to risk a counterattack.

"Shunpuu Kyaku!" he shouted while launching himself at the boy with his leg extended while spinning. The boy read the attack but was too late to do anything but block, being pushed back a bit from the attack hitting his raised guard. After Scott hit the ground the boy attempted to counterattack, but was caught off guard by a follow up thrust kick to his gut. The boy gasped as he stumbled backwards, and Scott capitalized on the opening by dashing forward.

"Shouoken!" he shouted after crouching down and unleashing a jumping uppercut to the boy's jaw, sending him stumbling backwards completely off balance. Scott hit the ground running and turned to slam his elbow into the boy's chest, then continue to spin striking the boy's face with his other elbow, and finally throwing all his weight into striking the boy with his other elbow in the chest sending him flying. Scott readied to sprint forward for a continuing combo but stopped when he saw the boy spring off his hands and land on his feet, his guard up ready to counter anything thrown at him.

_Man he's good! Taking all that and still ready to go!_

The crowd cheered at the spectacle, and Scott thought he saw some of them taking bets. He ignored it and focused on his opponent who, quite frankly, looked he hadn't even taken any damage.

_This kid's out of my league, which is pretty damn depressing now that I think about it. Ok, this kid's got more power, more speed, and more skill and more stamina than me. But that doesn't mean I can't win. If I throw him off his game there might be a chance._

The boy cocked back his arm, preparing for the same blindingly fast straight punch he from before.

_Not this time you do-!_

However, Scott was caught off guard when the boy attacked much sooner than he expected!

_CRAP! Okokokok, can't dodge so, GRAB IT!_

Through muscle memory, and remembering where he was hit last time, Scott managed to place his open palm right in the path of the punch. Though he difficult, he did manage to stop the blow before it connected, surprising his opponent.

_Gotcha!_

Scott used the lapse in focus to punch the boy in the boy in the gut, winding him, before giving him a quick kick behind the leg to bring him down on one knee.

_Let's finish it!_

Scott raised his foot high, preparing for an axe kick, and then dropped the heel towards the boy's head. Scoot put all his weight into the kick, so he was caught off guard and off balance when the boy managed to lean and twist away from the blow without actually moving to a different position. The boy shot up and wrapped both hands around Scott's neck and squeezed before lifting him off the ground. For moment there was a loud pop crowd gasped, thinking the boy had broken the older man's neck before letting go. Scott fell on his feet and barely managed to stay up, gasping for breath. The boy took his chance and raised his hand before brining down a chop on Scott's collarbone, the force of the blow actually sending the older man to the ground flat on his back. Scott managed to summon the strength to bend his arms and legs and spring backwards, landing a yard or two away from his opponent. As he stood up the boy prepared for another dash punch.

_Shit! Gonna have to make a gamble here._

Still off balance Scott crouched down before hopping forward to meet the boy's dash with a double drop kick, landing both feet on the boy's chest and knocking him back onto his butt. Despite dodging the attack Scott still had to suffer the damage of landing flat on his back.

"Dammit! Why do you keep hitting me there!?" the boy shouted as the two them stood up. "You got a thing for hitting girls in the chest!?"

_Wait… What?_

Scott froze as he observed his opponent more closely. He had always noticed the smaller, more petite features from the beginning but he just chalked that up to being young. But now that je looked he did some female features as well. What finally cemented it in his mind was when he finally realized that that red thing sticking out from under the gi wasn't a t-shirt, it was a sports bra.

_WHAT._

"You… You're a girl?" Scott asked.

The girl's eyes widened in shock for a few seconds before her face contorted into a look of absolute rage.

_Oh shit. I think I hit button._

"W-Wait, I swear I didn't mean that as an insu-" Scott tried to apologize while stepping backwards.

"OF COURSE I AM!" she shouted. In the next moment all her muscles tensed as she shouted and her skin began to turn a deep red.

_What the-?_

He saw the girl prepare for another dash punch and barely had enough time to raise his guard the girl dashed forward with blinding speed, but on instinct managed to catch the blow as he did before. It didn't do him much good as the force of the attack was so great that the back of his hand ended up slamming into his chest with enough force to send him flying.

_What!?_

Before he could even recover from that blow he felt a punch connect with back that sent him rocketing skyward.

_WHAT!?_

Scott managed to grit through the pain and look up in time to the girl above him, her foot already raised for an axe kick.

_OH FU-!_

The girl's heel connected with Scott's chest and he plummeted to the ground, landing flat on his back. A cloud of dirt and even cracked road debris rose up around him. The girl landed and prepared a finishing move, but stopped when she saw Scott wasn't moving. For a moment Scott did nothing but stare upwards, his mouth open in shock in pain, before finally letting loose a small and pained whimper. He managed to see the girl's skin turn back to normal before she stomped off in a huff.

For a few moments, no one moved or said anything. Then an old man came out and looked down Scott, the old man from the sushi bar.

"You lose," he said simply.

Scott nodded.

"You pay," he continued.

Scott managed to raise hi wrist, allowing the old man to take of his S.I.N. watch and take it inside. He came back about a minute later and left both the watch and a small cup of steaming liquid on his chest.

"Saké free. You need it," he said, and walked back inside.

Scott slowly managed to reach to his chest and gingerly grasped the cup. He brought it to his mouth and poured in the entire content in one go. He swallowed and then held his breath before uttering one word.

"Ow."

**/**

_Alright, sorry this took me a while. Maybe I should set deadlines for myself._

_Anyway, Makoto has always been one of my favorite characters in the Street Fighter franchise what with her whole style being simple but brutal. Also she's one of my many crushes (I like tomboys). I thought it would be good for Scott to go against someone who's fairly new to fighting like him but despite being younger she's got a lot more experience and training under his belt._

_Also, for those of you wondering why I never called her by her name, it's because we as the reader aren't going to know anything more than what Scott knows. Just because we know who Yun and Yang are talking about when they say "Auntie" doesn't mean he will. Also I'm hoping to slowly flesh out Scott's background over the tale. He may not be the deepest character but I'd like to think he's not entirely flat either._

_Also, to Vammy, I don't know about Chun-Li or Cammy appearing. Not to say they won't, but I don't have any plans as of yet. Scott mostly serves as the background character, the "protagonist of another story" if you will, so even though he may be involved in some of the bigger events he won't play too large a role in them. Because of that I don't think he'll ever get more than a passing glance at them._

_Anyway, hope to see you all next time!_


End file.
